


Riverparent

by HaroThar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Experimentation, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mad Scientists, Minor Character Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroThar/pseuds/HaroThar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alright kiddos. This lovely idea of a story is from my dear friend ZekeStrife and basically here's the premise:<br/>Gaster found these two skeleton children (of which Papyrus is the older) and "took them in," but used them for scientific experimentation. He turned Papyrus into a monstrosity, someone who can shapeshift into a highly lethal form and needs to consume the energy of other souls in order to function. If he gets too low on energy, he will eat the entire soul of another monster for the energy it gives.<br/>River finds out about this. They are not happy about it at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unnoticed Undertow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZekeStrife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZekeStrife/gifts).



The River Person, called River for short, knew Gaster. Indeed, they knew Gaster quite well. His work was in the Core, but his home in Snowdin, and so every morning at 6:45 exactly River would greet Gaster as he stepped on board their boat and every afternoon at 5:00 they would drop him off in the snow. They chatted daily with him on the fifteen minute magical excursions to Hotland, and they found him to be a pleasant, if quiet individual. When he did speak it was always in whispers, but more frequently than not he would only speak in hands. River didn’t mind, though. Everyone had something that made them a little strange. River found that they liked Gaster a great deal, he tipped them in food items and once brought them a potted plant he had genetically modified to withstand all climates, which was nice, considering River’s place of work.

Yes, River found Gaster to be entirely pleasant. A good person.

\--

Papyrus’ head was buzzing. He moved- found he could. He wasn’t waking up on an operating table, this time, then. Feral glances told him he was in the room with many softer platforms, operating tables that didn’t have the straps and belts and instead had something cushiony on them that made them nice and comfortable. Coverings that were not made of sanitary plastic were good for warmth- comfort- hiding. Sans.

Where was Sans?

Papyrus got up and his legs bent down into an animal crouch, black tar-like limbs best suited for crawling like a mutt across the cold and stainless tiles. Bones clittered against the pale ceramic squares. Disinfectant on the floors. Vinegar in the sinks. Detergent on his gown. Bleach. Ammonia. Sanitizer. How he hated that his nasal cavity was so large, so full of the burning chemicals that kept this bleach-bright place clean.

“Sans,” he hissed, voice always hoarse. Always quiet. He searched each operating table that wasn’t really an operating table, nudging at any lumps in the folds of the fabrics that might’ve even possibly hid a small skeleton. 

“Sans,” he hissed, crawling to the room where the water came out of not a sink, but an overhanging pipe. He liked this room. It didn’t smell like anything other than soap and using this room was the best part of his day, provided Master Gaster wasn’t in an extraordinarily bad mood. He skittered on. There was the start of a large, terrifying looking machine, and Papyrus skittered past it quickly. He hoped, upon the machine’s completion, that it wouldn’t be used on him. He eventually found Sans in the room with the fans, and crouched over top the toddler monster. 

“Sans,” Papyrus hissed again, and the small child blinked blearily at his brother. Small, tiny bones reached up and clung to Papyrus’ extended neck, black modifications allowing the bones in his body to stretch out like puddy. Papyrus cradled the all-white skeleton to his ribcage and skittered back into the room of operating tables that were not actually operating tables and made a nest of sorts out of a blanket and the single pillow already on the table and himself. Master Gaster would be displeased if Papyrus used materials from other tables. It would result in the room being disorderly. 

No, Papyrus, although “feral” as Master Gaster liked to call him, could never be disorderly.

\--

Gaster liked to consider himself a patient man. Patient with his test subjects, patient for results. Patient with his goofy boss, the one foolish enough to buy everything Gaster told him. Patient with his situation, here trapped with hundreds in the underground, patient with his understudy, who wasted her brilliance by flitting away her time with those stupid human animations.  
Yes, Gaster considered himself a patient man, but there were some things he would not abide by. Disorder, disobedience, dishonesty.

“Papyrus, Papyrus,” he scolded with his hands. Papyrus’ first instinct was always to look at the floor, like a child. Or dog. Dog of a non-sentient nature, of course, Gaster would never think to degrade his neighbors in any way, although they did exhibit many of the same habits…

“Papyrus,” Gaster signed again, snapping his fingers to get the skeleton’s attention. The test subject whimpered.

“What did you do?” Gaster asked patiently, feeling very tired with this boy. Papyrus shuffled anxiously on his black limbs and whined, clacking his teeth together agitatedly.

“I hid Sans from you,” the skeleton said hoarsely and Gaster snapped aggressively at Papyrus’ volume.

“Sorry,” Papyrus hissed, quieter, and Gaster motioned for him to continue.

“Th-that’s…” Papyrus whimpered and Gaster snapped again. “That’s, bad. A-and, it makes me, bad too. Because I messed with your schedule, and l-lied to you about not knowing where Sans is, and it makes me a bad person.”

Gaster nodded. “Now, you will be punished, Papyrus, but if you bring Sans to me now you will not be punished quite so severely.”

“Master Gaster, please-” Gaster snapped again, and Papyrus lowered his volume a second time. To speak too loudly a third time would mean consequences. Disobedience. 

“Sans is too small, Master, he’s too weak for-”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Gaster signed, cutting Papyrus off. He whimpered and dug his kneecaps into the ceramic. 

“Master,” Papyrus hissed, his bones trembling and tapping against each other, “ _please!_ ”

Gaster sighed. “You have not brought him to me, Papyrus,” he signed, “You will be punished. Get on the operating table.”

Papyrus whimpered again but did as he was told, too-long-limbs clicking as he clattered up onto the table. Gaster strapped him down and made a mental note to adjust the settings. Papyrus’ limbs were stretched out so frequently now, they weren’t going back to their natural length all the way anymore. Papyrus was too elongated for the table’s current settings, but that was an easy enough fix. Gaster would just change the table.

Once strapped down, Gaster stepped away, leaving Papyrus alone in that room, immobile, knowing that punishment would come for him, as he went and sought out Sans. He would experiment on Sans first, that day, to remind Papyrus that Gaster, although a patient man, was still the one in charge.

Gaster paused, momentarily in the doorframe, to observe the neutral state of his creation. When he’d found Papyrus and Sans two and a half years ago, back when Sans was truly, well and fully, only just newly made, they’d been starving to death outside his home, each a little bundle of still-forming bones. Now, though, now Papyrus was a masterpiece. Indeed, Gaster’s patience had paid off. His bones- all but the tips of his ribs, his skull, and his digits- were blackened like Gaster’s own tarry body, and what had started as a child’s natural ability to grow quickly had been magically and scientifically morphed into an ability to stretch into distortive proportions. By now, Papyrus’ Enfrictioned State, as Gaster was calling it, could reach nearly 13 feet tall, legs nearly 10 feet and arms just shy of 11. His ribs, Gaster knew, would curl around back in on themselves, layering the spaces between the bones with more of themselves, curling around the sensitive, difficult-to-stretch spine like armor and filling in cracks like blades in sheathes. 

As Gaster walked, he continued to congratulate himself on the progress of his masterpiece. Papyrus’ skull, although unblackened, would also morph, stalactites of bone hanging off his chin and stalagmites carving off his scalp. His fangs would double in size and number, each too big for his maw- as his jaw did not yet have the ability to unhinge. Gaster was still invested in making that happen, despite the fact that Papyrus was literally a bone monster and had no skin to keep an unhinged jaw from falling. Maybe that’d be something Papyrus could sustain through magic, although Papyrus’ magic input was already low.

Speaking of, Gaster needed to allow Papyrus to feed again soon. Monster food, while plenty magical, only contained so much sustenance. And Papyrus required a _lot_ of magic in order to keep him going, especially with his Enfrictioned State to think of. Hmm, there was a particularly annoying Chilldrake child that kept causing a ruckus around Snowdin, bullying Gyftroot and being an overall pest. Yes, that life could be utilized for Gaster’s creation.

He found Sans in, of all places, a refrigerator. Of course, being made of bone, temperature couldn’t affect him. Gaster supposed that was fairly intelligent, on Papyrus’ part.

“Come along now,” he signed to the toddler, “It’s time to use you to remind Papyrus that sometimes the best punishment is to harm the people the punished one loves.”


	2. The Pressure Grows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little segment all on its own, because I like the rhythm of River, Papyrus, Gaster, but this part still needs to happen and it needs to go here, linearly, so here we are.  
> Anyway, enjoy Gaster being awful and Papyrus having awful things done to him :3

“Tell me how this feels,” the Master signed and Papyrus felt a jolt of negative energy exude from him as he looked at a picture of- something. Papyrus could feel the negativity, feel that anger, the irritation, feel the negativity rub up against his soul, like sandpaper, like two balloons making static, like the worst kind of friction.

“Bad,” Papyrus rasped. He could feel himself reacting, feel himself reacting all the way down in his bones. Could feel it- his teeth. The way they ground together and then suddenly weren’t grinding anymore, instead clicking and whining like a whetstone on a knife, sharpening each other as they carved into points.

“Specifics,” Master Gaster signed, and Papyrus hissed at him. No, bad, to hiss at the master is- bad bad bad Papyrus was being _bad_ and.

He whined keened shrieked and magic pinged at him painfully, Gaster’s reprimand of his noise. Even Enfrictioned, Papyrus still had to be quiet.

“Irritation and anger,” Papyrus hissed around his growing teeth. His thoughts were warping faster than his body, no longer his but his magic’s. “Need- need. _Kill_ ,” he hissed. He tried to say “I need to kill it,” but his words came out in a garbled mess, all hisses and clicks and the clatter of bones.

“Ah, good. Look, then,” the Master signed before showing Papyrus the source of the ire. Papyrus could never attack Gaster of course, not Gaster never Gaster _(never Gaster never Gaster)_ but that, the bird, the bird monster that was the source of it all, that was why Papyrus was like this that was where the friction came from Papyrus needed to _desTroY iT_ he needed to _rIP it To sHRedS aNd eaT ITS SoUL!_


	3. The Waters are Wild Today. That's Bad Luck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River is good and Gaster is not.

River bade Gaster a friendly farewell as he stepped off their boat. They were in a cheerful mood that day, feeling bubbly rather than steady as they normally did. Perhaps they’d go and pay a visit to the Snowman. Yes, the Snowman was a lovely person, and River was really the only person that ever visited him, they would go do that. Surely the entire Underground wouldn’t fall apart if they were gone for an hour or so. Their trusted ferry carried them along, and they sang a merry tune as they travelled. They spent a good hour or so chatting with the Snowman, and then noticed that a piece of him was missing.

Sighing, he told them that the kids had run off with a chunk of him, and now it was hanging out in this weird voidy place.

“I have a friend, a scientist named Gaster, who experiments with the void. He’s made these neat interdimensional boxes, he told me about them once. I bet the kids shoved the piece of you in there, if I remember correctly Gaster has one right nearby,” River said steadily, voice fluctuating in tone and emotion no more than the river they rode on. In the Underworld, there was very little reason for the waves to be anything other than steady, and even less wind to make them so. River’s watery home did not fluctuate much.

They walked the short distance to the bright box, a nice yellowish orange, and opened it. The contents were detailed in a metaphysical list that was simultaneously right in front of River and only in their head, a pile of goop in their subconscious like a dollop of syrup or maybe peanut butter, telling them the items of the box with no sound or visual, just a mere existence of a list.

Tough glove- left from that cute monster in a striped shirt and abs drawn on their bandana. River did wonder whatever happened to that child. They had disappeared about the same time King Asgore had found a human soul.

River didn’t actually wonder what had happened to that cute child, who they knew was not actually a monster. But sometimes it was nice to play pretend, if only inside their own head. 

Snow Piece- River extracted that item from the box, the eternal snow sitting coolly in their hands, cupped as though the living dust might flurry from their fingers if they were not careful.

PAPYRUS- River paused at that. What in the world was a Papyrus? Surely taking a look could hurt nothing, Gaster wouldn’t put anything into his interdimensional box that needed hidden, right?

River was met with a 13 foot monster and a soul-piercing shriek.

The Papyrus clawed at them, howling, but the claws came short of River’s presence. Confounded, the creature swung again, arms well within range to touch them, crush them, but again the claws remained an inch from River’s person, arm fully extended all 11 feet and River standing only 3 from where the creature was.

Angry, the creature lunged for them, but no matter how hard or how fast the being surged River still remained just out of reach, just barely out of range. The Papyrus howled and circled River, whose magic was and had always been to remain untouchable. Even so, they wished for the security of their boat, not because they were fearful, but because this was all a little uncomfortable and they would’ve liked the extra layer of safety that came with knowing that no creature, monster human or otherwise, could set foot or paw upon their ferry without their say.

The Papyrus shrieked again and River remained unmoved. Their discomfort began dissipating, and they regarded the Papyrus with careful concern. This creature was a monster- no monster River had ever seen before, certainly, but a monster.

The Papyrus whined, movements slowing. River remained unmoved, passive, calm. Ribs vibrated against each other as the mangled chest filled with a shaky, bone-rattling breath. 

“There there now,” River said soothingly, like cool water on a burn, “it’s quite alright. Being in that interdimensional box must have given you quite the scare, I can’t imagine being trapped in a scientifically fabricated void must’ve been very pleasant. Hush now, child-” and River could tell that this was, indeed, a child. This monster was a child in the same way that the monsters that would come to River were children, their hands filled with colorful pebbles or snap-stemmed flowers. This monster was a child just as much as the boys that puffed up their chest feathers and told River of how well they were doing in school, just as much as the girls that swore they’d grow up and fight Asgore and the girl that did just that. “-you’re alright.”

Slowly, like ice melting the closer it got to the core, bumping alongside River’s boat, the child shrank. Thirteen feet turned to ten, then seven, then five. Fangs turned into a perfectly respectable looking mouth full of plain old teeth, points on the jaw and scalp receded into smooth bone. Wild eye sockets full of pulsing energy emptied, then filled again with tears.

River approached. This child could be of no harm to them anymore. They crouched down, placing the handful of Snowman Piece a safe distance from the distressed monster, and extended their hand towards the tears decorating the now-simple skull.

“You’re so quiet when you cry, child,” River commented softly, pressing their thumb to the trail of tears. Their hand jerked back, waving the liquid from their hand, before plunging their appendage into the snow. The monster’s tears burned like _acid._ River heard the child whine, probably at their distress, and quickly schooled themself back into moderation.

“Easy, child, easy, I was just burned is all. You’re quite alright.” The monster sobbed, a terrible, broken, frightened sound. “I’m not mad,” River added, hoping that that was the source of the distress. River looked along the joints of the monster, orange oozing from the cracks in the black bones like pus from a wound. River figured that too would probably burn, and marveled at the fact that this child did not feel the pain of it. Or perhaps, this child was too accustomed…?

_No,_ River thought, _no, it is the child’s nature, like fire is to Grillby._ Except Grillby’s fire did not burn. Neither, then, should a child’s acid.

River didn’t actually believe that the child was unhurt by the acid. Did not actually think there was a chance that fragile, fluttering heart-shaped soul pulsing behind black ribs was unharmed instead of merely used to the pain. But it was nice to play pretend, if only inside their own head.

“Shhhhh,” River soothed, voice steady as rushing water. “Shhhh, shhh, easy now child.”

The creature sobbed. So broken. So _quiet. What child is this quiet when they cry?_ River thought.

“Little one, can you tell me, you are the Papyrus, correct?”

The Papyrus nodded, sniffling and trying to cover their face. 

“What should I call you, little one?”

The Papyrus hiccupped, a tiny sound. “T-The Papyrus is fine, master,” the Papyrus rasped.

River shook their head. “I am no master,” they said, feeling ill at the title like an oil stain spilling across the water’s surface. “Nor am I any mistress. I am simply the River Person, little Papyrus.”

“S-sorry!” To make panic sound so quiet. “Sorry, honored one, I’m sorry, I didn’t- didn’t know, didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I…” The Papyrus trailed off, words seeking a direction and finding none. A conversation cornered, an eddy in its course.

River paused, waited to see if the Papyrus would continue, and when the fragile creature didn’t River asked, “And tell me, small Papyrus, are you a ‘he,’ ‘she,’ or ‘they’?”

“Wh-whichever, honored one, but my master calls me ‘he.’”

“I see. And your master is…?”

“Master Gaster, honored, he should be coming to let me out of the box soon-” the Papyrus’ eyes widened in sudden panic, his voice actually raising in volume for the briefest moment before he tamped it back down, “please, honored, you need to put me back in there, he’ll be so mad if he finds I’ve disobeyed him again today please I need to go back in there please, please, please I need to go,” the Papyrus lifted himself onto his hands and feet, an animal’s crouch screwed onto a monster’s body, and he crawled towards the box as he begged, bones clicking against each other as they shook, acid flecks flicking from his femurs¬, “please I need to he can’t see me outside of it he’ll be so mad please I need to go back in.”

River helped the Papyrus back into the box. Stoically, they took the Snowman back his missing piece.

“I saw,” the Snowman said.

“I know you did, Snowman.”

“You helped him back in?”

“Panic cannot be assuaged by telling him not to do the thing he’s panicking about not doing,” River said, “Gaster will not be stopped if he knows that I know this early on in his downfall. Besides, that poor child reacted so violently when I got even a little upset. He does not deserve the anger I harbor now.”

The Snowman watched River get back onto their boat and was silently grateful that he was not Gaster. Rare, was it that River was ever truly angry. Frightening, even more so.

\--

Papyrus crossed his arms over his ribcage, legs like a frog’s and half-protecting his sides, a pathetic set of shields for his fluttering soul as Gaster’s magic anger crashed down on him in waves. Gaster was furious that he’d lost his Enfrictioned State, but the negativity couldn’t push Papyrus over the edge, not when he’d been in his Enfrictioned State once already that day and had been able to glean nourishment from the River Person’s soul. Their soul- like all souls- gave off an aura of energy, unspent magic, like body heat, and Papyrus, needing so much energy like he did for Gaster’s experiments and his Enfrictioned State and simple survival with those tar like limbs, could spin that energy from the air like cotton candy and consume it. Although it was less like cotton candy and more like a shot of straight energy into his nervous system, but that wasn’t quite what mattered.

More importantly, having fed off of River’s excess soul energy- so calm- made it so that Papyrus was no longer hungry enough to eat another monster’s soul.

“I suppose I shall have to live with the annoying Chilldrake a while longer. Till next feeding, then,” Master Gaster signed unhappily before kicking Papyrus back towards the box, gooey feet hard on brittle bones. Papyrus skittered backwards, attempting to comply quickly enough that he’d be out of range by the next kick, but he never was. 

“You’ve disappointed me, Papyrus,” Master Gaster signed when Papyrus’ ankles were up against the box, “I will leave you in the box overnight, like usual, and first thing tomorrow I will find a way to let you unhinge your jaw and keep it, even if it hurts you dearly, understand me?”

Papyrus nodded, fingers curling around each other, and then Gaster pushed him backwards so he toppled out of his crouch and into the open box.

\--

Gaster had been meaning to do that jaw experiment anyway, but now Papyrus would have a crime to associate the pain with. The Chilldrake would still cease its annoying prattling eventually, and Gaster was a patient man. Truly, it was a win-win situation.


	4. Uh oh. Suddenly, Feeling Tropical...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River learns that it would probably be best if they just took matters into their own hands, Papryus learns how to unhinge his jaw, and Gaster quits focusing for just a second long enough.

River disliked being this far from their ferry, their home. They disliked the way their practical, thick boots resounded against the marble tiles, diamonds of wispy white extending between pillars and golden windows allowing false sunlight onto their path like the Delta Runes were forged from hope instead of glass. 

The place was called Judgement Hall. Strangely enough, River felt as though they understood why.

Their hand pressed to the cool stone of the archway to Asgore’s garden. Real sunlight filtered in here, almost indistinguishable from the kind casting its silent judgement in the hall but warmer, somehow. Warmer, and yet, less hopeful. What an interesting trade.

Asgore’s lumbering form stood humming in the middle, the water hitting yellow petals a soothing and familiar sound. Like rain or rapids. His horns carved upwards, imposing and regal. Indeed, those horns were the most imposing thing about him. His bulky arms were thick from muscle, yes, but they were soft. Soft and good for holding children on his lap. His hands were calloused from lifetimes of ruling but ruling with a fist made of cotton, not iron.

“Howdy!” the king greeted when he saw River standing in his doorway, and River realized they’d made a miscalculation.

\--

Papyrus bit down on yet another yelp of pain and it came out as a quiet, strangled scream. Long and agonized, but not loud. He counted that as good, and wanted to think that he was being a good boy about all of this. Master Gaster, however, was not acting like Papyrus was being a good boy. The frustration was palpable, but Papyrus didn’t Enfriction from it. Not Master Gaster, no, never Master Gaster, Papyrus could never hurt Master Gaster, never ever, why just the thought made Papyrus’ limbs feel heavy, like they were drowning in sticky tack. To ever, _ever_ go against Master Gaster was impossible, why Papyrus could feel the mere thought slipping out of his head, casting itself out into the void where it belonged because it was such a silly thought, such a silly impulse.

“We’re going to the core,” Master Gaster signed, fingers sharp and jerky in their movements.

“Why, Master?” Papyrus asked.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Master Gaster admonished and Papyrus flinched back like he’d been struck with a newspaper like a disobedient pet, “I need more power to get this jaw unhinging to work right.”

“Yes, master. What about Sans?”

Gaster tapped his fingers to his chin thoughtfully. “Best to make sure he stays out of trouble while no one else is here. I’ll strap him to an operating table.”

Papyrus flinched on his brother’s behalf, but did not protest. His master was angry enough as it was, and besides, he was doing it for Sans’ own good.

\--

Gaster could’ve whooped with excitement, but his frail voice wasn’t meant for anything more than a whisper. With the power of the core at his back, he’d _finally_ been able to get Papyrus’ jaw to unhinge but stay attached. Of course, Papyrus had had his jaw forcibly removed many times, making the most annoying noises every time it happened, but such was the sacrifice Papyrus had to make in the name of science and Gaster was fully willing to accept that premise.

Papyrus’ jaw reattached with a click and Gaster ordered him to do it again, this time on his own. He did, obedient that day, and it worked wonderfully.

“Now you’ll finally have room for all those fangs,” Gaster signed, feeling a little chatty in the face of success.

Papyrus rehinged his jaw without Gaster’s say and Gaster frowned, but figured it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if it made him stop with that ungodly _keening_. At least he was keeping it quiet this time.

“Gaster.”

Gaster spun, startled. This place was off limits and highly dangerous nobody should’ve been-

“River?” Gaster whispered, utterly in shock.

“You have no right to call me that anymore.” River’s voice was cold like the stones along the banks in Snowdin. Behind Gaster, something rattled quietly.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Gaster signed sternly. Bones clicked against each other behind him.

“You shouldn’t have ever touched that child.”

Gaster jerked a thumb behind him, not even bothering to look at Papyrus, before signing, “This one? He would’ve died without me, he was starving to death on my doorstep and I’m the one that has kept him alive. He’s grateful to me.” A hiss of air and a clattering of bones told Gaster that Papyrus was nodding.

“I don’t doubt that he is,” River said, tone level but with an undertow that threatened to drag Gaster under. "You’ve trained him quite well, Gaster, I don’t doubt that his mind is as much your possession as his body is.”

“Don’t sound so condemning, River,” Gaster signed, like a schoolteacher, as bone scraped on metal behind his back, “I’m doing things you cannot possibly understand, but will one day thank me for.”

“I think I’d thank you most if you bought yourself a one-way ticket and burned in hell, old _friend_.”

Gaster lifted his hands to reply but instead was met with the sight of River’s head jerking back, a brief flash of their previously unseen eyes blown wide in surprise the last thing Gaster saw before something heavy collided with his back, propelling him forward with force and speed Gaster had never before experienced and throwing him over the ledge.

All he saw then was red. A burst of orange next to him, an interdimensional box of his own creation shoved off the ledge by his body, flinging it out in front of him, and then a great Nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyy sorry y'all waited so long and this is so short, but not having internet at one's home kinda sucks y'know?
> 
> On a SIGNIFICANTLY happier note, thank you all so much for your attention! I've never had this many people subscribe to one of my stories, and I am delighted that you all like it so much! Thanks again!


	5. Remember to Take a Break Every-So-Often...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am so sorry this took so long

  
River had watched the Papyrus transform, a sight more terrible in its becoming than it had ever been when they had calmed him down, and was startled, but not surprised, when he tackled Gaster into the abyss below. Indeed, if River was feeling their own face correctly, they may have been smirking a bit at the sight.

  
The Papyrus howled in victory and rage and River could feel their own anger floating away now that the source of their ire was gone. Bubbles of rage popped as though in a soda glass and the Papyrus turned on them, still howling, and he swiped at them once again. River remained where they were, but their stomach felt unsettled as the Papyrus’ eye glowed bright and brilliant, a toxic orange. He was rocking the boat now- the metaphorical one, of course- and River’s limbs began to feel… heavy.

  
River’s arms felt as though _they_ were the ones carrying 11 feet of weight, their legs like 10 foot cinder blocks. Their soul was dragged down with the weight of three chests, and their skull felt suddenly too hefty to lift. River could’ve thought it coincidence, but River was no fool.

  
“Gravity magic,” River said, voice still as steady as the current. These skipping stones of uncomfortable misfortune would not change the rapids’ course, neither then would they change the way River felt. “Impressive.” The Papyrus lunged at them, lighter now, unburdened by his own payment due to gravity, but still he could not reach. River sat, the dusty surface of Gaster’s Core Laboratory entirely too hot to rest on.

  
“Hmm… Should’ve worn a few million more pairs of pants today.”  
The Papyrus clicked his jaw at them and hissed, and River noticed how yellow the bone of the Papyrus’ jaw looked.

  
“You have a bruise, child. A fairly large one at that.”

  
He howled and slashed at them. He tore up metal tiles and threw them at River, lunged, ran, threw any number of sharp and unhappy tools at them, and idly they picked one of those up when it landed right next to them on the floor.

  
“This is not a tool meant to be used on people,” River said, sad and slow. They tossed it away.

  
The Papyrus raged at them a little more, but was slowing. River stayed calm, knowing that panic would only upset a child more.

  
He eventually curled on his side, like he had the time back in Snowdin, and started crying again.

  
“Easy, child,” River soothed. They stood up and went to him, crouching down next to his huddled form. The gravity magic had snapped when the last of the Papyrus’ rage had worn off. “Easy, easy, tra la la, tri li li, tre le le, easy child, hush.” River pet his scalp again, knowing this time not to touch the tears.

  
“D-did I…”

  
“You threw him into the core.”

  
The Papyrus sobbed harder, loud and panicked and heart-wrenching.

  
“It was the right thing to do,” River soothed, but wondered if the Papyrus could hear them over his own sobs.

  
“No it wasn’t! It was bad, it was so bad of me, I’m bad, I’m bad, I should’ve never- I can’t believe I- I’m bad I’m bad I’m so bad..!” the Papyrus cried, his pale fingers clawing at his cheekbones. Apparently he _could_ hear them.

  
“You’re not bad,” River promised, petting his skull, “What he did to you was bad, and the fact that you ever needed to attack him in the first place was bad, but you are not bad, little Papyrus.”

  
“I’m bad,” the Papyrus protested, “I’m bad I’m bad I’m bad I’m a bad boy I’m bad I've never dusted anyone before they've only ever fallen down and this was bad I’m so bad I’m so very bad he’s going to punish me-”

  
“He’s not going to do anything to you,” River said firmly, perhaps a little more harshly than they intended. Their countenance smoothed, “He isn’t going to do anything to you anymore, I promise. I won’t let him do one more thing to you, little Papyrus, even if he could at this point.”

  
The Papyrus shook his head, bones clawing at his eye sockets.

  
“Shhhh, shhh, it’s alright, little Papyrus. He can’t hurt you now.”

  
The Papyrus sobbed long and hard, frail bones shaking all the while, and River pet him and soothed him as best they could, _really_ wishing they had about a million more pairs of pants on when their ankles tired and they had to sit down again.

  
“I’m sorry,” the Papyrus eventually said, a new string of dialogue from his conviction of his own badness and his panic that Gaster would return to harm him.

  
“You don’t have to be sorry, little Papyrus. None of this was your fault.”

  
“I p-pushed him. I cried all over you. I was _loud_.”

  
River felt that like a sharp stab in the soul, but smoothed over it quickly enough. A stone thrown in the water’s surface cannot change the tide. A stone thrown in the water’s surface _cannot_ change the tide.

  
“Little Papyrus,” River cooed, “I couldn’t care less how loud you are.”

  
“Really?” The Papyrus sniffed and sat up, acid oozing from his joints and sizzling on the hot tiles. The acid pus stopped as his tears tapered off, and he sniffled, pawing at his face.

  
“Really, little Papyrus, you can be as loud as you’d like to be.”

  
The Papyrus stared at them, disbelief written on his expressive (especially for a skeleton) face.

  
“Come along, little Papyrus,” River encouraged, standing up and glad to be. They extended a hand down to Papyrus, hopeful that the acid did not ooze between the joints in his fingers as well. Although, it truly did seem as though only his blackened limbs and eyes could leak corrosion.

  
The Papyrus took their hand and they led him, still sniffling and wiping at his face, away from the place of his torment. The Core opened up into an old hotel, one rarely used, and the clerk behind the counter probably couldn’t have cared if River brought an urn of dust through the lobby. The only noteworthy thing about the mostly-abandoned hotel was the memorial fountain to young, deceased Prince Asriel in the middle of its lobby, which River walked around without pause. From there, it was only a short distance to the elevator, which was thankfully running. Someone really needed to run repairs on these things.

  
The Papyrus was quiet in the elevator, sniffling and pawing at his face, his hand a vise around River’s. They did not ask him to loosen his grip or move their hand away.

  
“Elevator malfunction, L1 Exit blocked. Select new destination.” 

 

River sighed. Ah well, to R1 it was, they guessed. It wasn’t that long of a walk. The Papyrus held their hand as they traversed the lowest level of Hotland.

 

“Honored,” he said quietly, as though afraid River would be mad at him for speaking before being spoken to. River was no fool, but it was nice to pretend that that wasn’t the direct cause of his timidity, if only in their head.

  
“Yes, little Papyrus?”

  
“I- gravity magic so. If you want- I could…”

  
“Are you offering to carry me across the steam gaps, little Papyrus?”

  
“S-sorry. Sorry for being presumptuous, I just thought- I… sorry.”

  
River waited patiently for him to finish before speaking up. It was, after all, rude to interrupt.

  
“I don’t think you’re being presumptuous, little Papyrus. I would be very grateful if you carried us across.” The steam gaps made River’s coat flare up, and while fun every once in awhile it was a tedious and obnoxious sensation when it happened frequently. They could only imagine how tedious it would be if they'd been wearing their cloak around Hotland, but it was indeed too hot for such things. Orange magic flickered in the Papyrus’ eyes and River felt decidedly blue.

  
They chuckled as they crossed over the pits of magma, feeling bubbly. “Tra la la,” they sang quietly, pleasantly.

  
The Papyrus slowed as they approached Gaster’s lab. Or perhaps it was River that slowed, and the Papyrus only followed their lead.

  
“Honored?”

  
Ah, would you look at that, it was River who had slowed.

  
“I am fine, little Papyrus,” they said, noticing how the Papyrus’ knuckles seemed to swell in their grip. No sense worrying the child, no sense feeling betrayed by a man River-

  
River had thought they’d known him.

  
Oh well.

  
River opened the sliding door to Gaster’s lab and walked through with their head high and their hood low. The second time, it was _definitely_ the Papyrus who slowed.

  
“Little one?”

  
“I-” the Papyrus was looking at a door, the one right next to the stairs that led to the second floor. “My brother, honored.”

  
River felt that like a kick to the teeth and released a small, “ _Oh_ ,” of pity.

  
“He- I can’t leave him here, honored, I can’t, he’s, he needs, he’s still down there and he’s st- I- honored please wherever we’re going you have to- I have to- please I can’t leave him I need- come with us please honored please he’s my brother he’s so fragile honored please!”

  
River pet the Papyrus’ skull with their free hand as he begged, really tempted to interrupt him and cut off his unnecessary pleading but it was rude to interrupt. When he seemed finished, River shushed him.

  
“Of course we’re getting your brother, little Papyrus, you said he’s ‘down’ somewhere? Does that door lead downstairs?”

  
The Papyrus nodded.

  
“Then we go downstairs.” River led the way to the door, and huffed when they found it was an elevator.

  
“I swear, that man and his contraptions.” River selected the only option and awaited the arrival at their destination.

  
The elevator’s whirring filled the small rectangular cube.

  
The Papyrus fidgeted at their side.

  
The elevator continued whirring.

  
Was this elevator really slow?

  
The elevator continued whirring.

  
The drop didn’t _feel_ particularly slow.

  
The elevator continued whirring.

  
River did not appreciate the implications of how far down they were going.

  
The elevator continued whirring.

  
Finally, the door opened and River stepped out into a blank, undecorated lobby. The place _reeked_ of sanitary fluids: bleach and ammonia and cleaning products River couldn’t place and had never once in their life used.

  
“This place smells rancorous,” River mentioned idly. The Papyrus sighed shakily at their side. He knew.

  
“Where is your brother, little Papyrus?”

  
“This way, honored.” The Papyrus led them to the left, where they came upon a row of operating tables.

  
There was a toddler strapped to one.

  
The babe’s limbs- so small and fragile- were stretched out to four corners, just barely big enough to reach the restraints that held him there. The restraints dwarfed his tiny skeletal hands, the width of each band about half as long as the tiny child’s forearms. He was stretched out, vulnerable and defenseless, alone, in a room of dim lighting and rancid smell while dressed in nothing more than cloth that might as well have been mache paper. The toddler cried out when he saw River approach.

  
“Easy, baby,” River soothed as they undid the straps, fingers tight with tension but keeping it controlled. “The Papyrus is right behind me, little one, your brother is right there. It’s alright, little one, I’m not going to hurt you, the Papyrus is here, it’s alright, it’s alright, shhhh.” River wondered if this boy, too, cried acid from his eyes.

  
River scooped him up tight to their chest and turned to the Papyrus. “Do you need anything else while we’re here?” they asked. Their gaze turned back towards the two cabinets in the corner where the sinks were not, and checked inside them when the Papyrus told them no. The smell of unscented laundry detergent mixed in with the bleach and River pulled the hospital gowns from their hangers. They used the white cloth to swaddle the toddler in their arms, then turned again to the Papyrus.

  
“Then we leave,” they said, and led the way back to the elevator, the toddler pressed close to their chest and the Papyrus tight on their heels, anxious face hovering close to River’s shoulder as he scrutinized the state of his brother.

  
“What do I call your brother?” River asked when they were once again in the elevator.

  
“His name is Sans, honored,” the Papyrus clicked. He was sitting on his haunches now, crouched like an animal, and River wished they had the limbs to carry a softly crying toddler and hold the Papyrus’ hand both. Sans was quieting, however, hiccups dying down into fidgeting rest.

  
“You must be very tired,” River cooed at the bundle, “You go ahead and sleep, little one. Tra la la, tri li li, tre le le.”

  
The Papyrus shifted anxiously and clicked his jaw, then winced. River eyed the yellow bone and frowned at it, cursing Gaster. Cursing their own negligence, cursing the king’s negligence, cursing that anyone would allow this to go on for so long.

  
The elevator dinged, and River led the way, the Papyrus close to their heels, crawling on the floor.

\--

Papyrus followed the River Person to their boat. It looked small from the top, only the barest stretch of wood even surfacing. The River Person started the boat out into the caverns, and brought it to a halt when the three of them were surrounded by only catacomb stones. They undid a hatch near the brow of the boat, seamlessly hidden by the surrounding wood, and crawled down the ladder. Papyrus followed, forced out of his crouch by the ladder and remaining on his feet once inside, to conserve space if nothing else.

A lifetime of mementos cluttered shelves that were just barely there. The light faintly reflected off the river and its tunnels’ surfaces was even fainter there, and yet the River Person did not remove their hood. They unwound a length of many woven ropes, extending the bunched bundle to the hook on the opposite side of the boat. The hook was outstretched between a doll sewn from lost buttons and hair ribbons and a picture frame too beautiful to lose, too empty to notice. They sat on the hammock, resting Sans on their lap, and beckoned Papyrus in closer. He stepped, barely finding footholds between the molehills of beads and mountains of pants, all pants. Cloth decorated every available surface- and surfaces that were not available- all different shades and yet all landing somewhere between black and dark blue. The lightest pair of leggings could be called navy- put graciously- but no clothing was cut from the same cloth. Papyrus walked past dangling atrocities of feathers and teeth, twine and yarn and string, shattered glass and mosaic tiles, jewels that were not really jewels and stones gathered by the riverbank.

The hammock was welcoming and soft, magically spun from enchanted yarn. Papyrus could see years of half-started paint projects flaking on the ceiling and smell centuries of familiarity in the river’s path outside, wafting gently through the still-open hatch above and beyond them. No trash defaced the clutter, no refuse of any sort. Sparks danced lazily, ever-burning, in a jar on a shelf. If he didn’t look straight at them Papyrus might have thought them fireflies.  
The three people rocked in the hammock that was a mere breath behind the boat’s own rocking, and gently the lapping caress of the river hummed at them, bidding them to sleep.

“Tra la la” the River Person sang, calming as their domain. Sans shifted sleepily in their arms, no fright creasing his too-young brow. Spoons ticked against sporks against forks in chipped glasses that could never make a matching set, while their unchipped and multicolored brethren sat clean upon their places, nestled between tinsel and tiny sculptures. Coins occasionally shifted in their places on the floor, their places on shelves overstuffed, their places strung between the twine and stainglass cathedral clippings hanging from the ceiling. River never asked for coins, yet was gifted some by charitable patrons all the same. They never gave away what they were given, placing coins next to children’s artwork and dried flowers from ancient bouquets.

Papyrus rested there, between the softness of his savior and the air that smelled like river water and beeswax lotion- only half used- sitting open in its tin.


	6. Tra La La... Don't Worry About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River needs to provide for their newfound children and employs means to do so. Papyrus has fun with his little brother and significantly less fun with his own emotions.

River did not want to wake. Waking would mean acknowledging the bundles nestled on their chest and close to their side. Waking would mean _doing_ something with those bundles. Ugh. Doing things. Whoever invented doing things needed to be punched in the face. Couldn't they just stand on their boat and do what they loved all day? Was that too much to ask? They'd done it before, why was the universe so opposed to them doing it now?

They opened their eyes and sighed. Of course, the process of thinking about all the reasons to _not_ wake up had just woken them up. Stupid universe. Being persistent.

River stood carefully and softly settled the toddler down next to his brother. The two shifted reflexively in their sleep, pulling in close to each other. Familiar. The sight made River’s heart bubble and gurgle.

Calmed from their brief tirade against the cosmos, River set to work at their morning routine. They hoped dearly no one had been inconvenienced by their absence the day prior; they did not like to feel undependable, but the circumstances were demanding. They changed into a new set of four pairs of pants for the day: two leggings beneath a pair of jeans and a nice, soft, deep blue pair of sweatpants. Perfect. They changed their tank top, shirt, and coat, too, searching for their cloak a short while before placing that back on. They had a feeling the extra layer would be nice.

Food was the next item. What remained of a gift basket from Ms. Stump seemed appropriate. But the two monsters behind them probably needed more food than children their age normally did.

River felt only briefly sickened by the assumptions they could make about Gaster’s “care.” Oh well. Water under a bridge now. For whatever reason, River found their qualms dissipating faster than even what was normal for them. Almost like Gaster wasn't substantial enough…

A monster with Void magic. Hmmm.

“Tra la la,” they sang, because in the long run it truly did not matter.

Something of a gurgle sounded behind them and they turned, smile spreading as curious pricks of toddling light searched the room. Still swaddled, it was hard for Sans to move himself upright- especially in a hammock- but River had to give him points for trying.

“Curious little one aren't you?” River asked ever so quietly. Sans grinned up at them, his right eye glowing a bluish green. River scooped him up and unswaddled him, deciding the toddler should be changed into one of the extra shifts until more genuine clothing could be acquired. River sighed to think that none of their pants would prove suitable.

“We’d best feed you. Why, little one,” River giggled, leaning in close so to share something of utmost importance, “you're _all_ _bones_! Hoo hoo hoo!”

Sans did not understand the joke, but did understand that it was one. He laughed along with River, childishly content to merely share their pleasure. They changed him into one of the spare shifts and sighed, thinking of supplies. They had not wanted to remain in Castor’s- _Gaster’s_ , lab for longer than they'd needed, but they feared they may need to take a second day off to return and see what they could scavenge.

They were having trouble with his name, now. Like water through gnarled fingers, memories were slipping. Hm.

Tra la la.

They gave Sans half the gift basket and searched for more for themself. These boys, they grew more and more certain, would take a great deal to keep fed. Once finding a cinnibunny from the shopkeeper, they settled on a mound of pants and pulled Sans to their lap. The toddler ate with surprising control over his motor skills, not wasting any of the food. River at their pastry silently, aware of why that might be so.

“Pap!” Sans suddenly shouted, demanding and childish.

“Tra la la, he's still asleep.” River had not even jumped at the noise, unflinching as the tide.

“Pap!” Sans shouted again, impatient this time.

“Hoo hoo hoo!”

In front of them, the hammock shifted and the Papyrus blinked at them wearily. River tutted, and beckoned him over. “Come help your brother finish eating, young Papyrus, and eat some breakfast yourself. I need to get ready for the day.” The Papyrus slid off the hammock and landed on all fours, then skittered up to them and placed his hand on their knee like a pet.

“There,” River smiled and stood, then waited for the Papyrus to settle where they had previously been atop the mound of pants. They placed Sans in his lap, who was delighted to be reunited with his brother, and then left the two to the gift basket. The hammock was coiled and placed back on its hook, a pen with a fake flower taped to the end (a gift from Jasper Rockson) was used to make a to do list on a half-useless notepad (scrounged out of the dump and accidentally dropped on River’s ferry by tiny, gleeful Bratty who had later told them to keep it when they tried to return it to her), and the Papyrus was coaxed into a new shift. River's smallest pair of shorts, gifted to them by Scorches Flamesman, could be placed on the Papyrus, fake flames crawling patterns up from the bottoms of the shorts. Hot pants, River believed this specific kind of attire was called, though they were more hot shorts than hot pants.

River went to the top of their boat and set along moving, smiling and turning when two skeletal children joined them.

“Tra la la, there's much to be done today,” they told the two. Sans cocked his head at them, his implacable grin never moving. The Papyrus nodded, as though he understood.

Hmmm, what was there to understand?

“Remain here please,” River told the two when they reached the Hotland landing. Selfishly, rudely, certain that this was for the best, they cast their magic so that the Papyrus and Sans would not be allowed to leave their ferry should the two ever try. River hastened away, eager to make this trip fast, eager to make it so the two would have no reason to try their treachery.

 _It's for the best,_ they told themself, hoping they were right, _it's for the best I force them to stay on my boat while I’m gone._

They really didn't like feeling like they were violating one of the rules. One of life’s rules, one that should be inherent.

The lab, at least, was close.

The elevator ride seemed even _longer_.

Cleaning supplies were the most readily found, none of which River needed. Medical and scientific tools, none of which River wanted. Pillows and blankets, those River took. Their hammock was nice but young boys deserved soft things. Besides, they would not live in the boat with River forever.

Further scrutiny of the underground lab turned up nothing else, just a handful of tomes in a text River couldn't read, non-standard medicines River would have no clue what to do with, and what looked like a couple of black boxes with black tape inside them. River did not know what a V-C-R was supposed to be, but surely their wards would not need one.

The elevator ride back up was _hell_.

The lab on the surface had much more of the supplies River wanted. Some of Gaster’s-

Their brain warbled-

Some of… _the man’s_ clothing and a single lab coat were in a laundry bin, which River ignored, and the rest was in a closet. River took the only pair of blue pants that was in there. Not for the boys, but for them. The entirety of the contents of Gas- of the man’s fridge went into River’s inventory. As did the blank paper and the papers that had talk of the Papyrus and Sans on them. There was a stash of actual medicine, not just strange tools, and River took what they could identify. They took all of Gaster’s-

Their brain warbled.

This was getting old.

“Tra la la,” they sang to themself, calming themself back down. A stone on the surface could not disrupt the current. They were tranquil.

They took all of the man’s finances, as the Underground had no banking system to speak of and everyone kept their gold at home or on them. The man who speaks in hands had a plastic piggy bank, blue with a cartoonish smile, which River was glad to empty. They didn't want to spend the coins so thoughtfully gifted to them by their patrons, but would be a responsible caretaker to these two children regardless of their own discomfort. The man’s gold was a lovely go-between.

They looked at a binder and their brain warbled. They frowned. Why would a binder make their brain-

Warble.

They put their hand on the-

_Forget it._

Inside was a-

Warble.

Oh for goodness sake it was just a deed to a house! A deed signed and paid for and, oh. The deed was blank. Gaster’s name-

Their brain warbled.

 _The man’s_ name was not on it, not anymore, like he never existed.

They took that too, the binder sliding into their inventory easily. Since River was not a child, they could carry a great number of things, their pockets a good size larger as an adult than some striped-shirt wearing munchkin wandering about in the Underground.

The lab looked like no one had lived in it for many years. Satisfied with River’s own work and the work of the Void, River turned and left the lab, hastening back to their boat.

The Papyrus and Sans were crouched right where they’d left them.

\--

Papyrus watched his- new owner?- go and strangely did not feel relieved. He should have, he always did when Gaster-

His brain clicked unhappily at him, like toothpicks jabbing around on the inside of his cranial cavity.

When Gaster-

His brain clicked.

Gaster would-

Click click click.

When Gaster- click- would leave, Papyrus would always feel relieved. It meant that no more needles or tools or magic would be coming for him or Sans.

But the River Person was not Gaster- click- and Papyrus found himself whining over when they would be back. He sat still for a while, then his bones began clattering with unspent energy and he prowled, pacing the length and width of the ferry’s surface, shaking his skull occasionally. Something he didn't want to acknowledge weighed heavily in the pit of his magical bowels and he focused hard on the motion of pacing, thinking on anything else instead. Sans watched him prowl and watched the road where the River Person had disappeared, his eyes sharp and observant.

“Pap!” Sans eventually demanded, arms up and outstretched. Papyrus responded by scooping him up and nuzzling the planes of their foreheads together. Most everything Sans knew about communication came from Papyrus. Sans had a toddler’s dictionary worth of sign language, but Papyrus was the only one who had spoken to him all two and a half years of his life, and the one who actually used body language and expressed emotion other than mild irritation or curiosity.

“Pap,” Sans repeated, less demanding and more as a method of expressing his happiness at being with Papyrus.

“Sans,” Papyrus whispered, the word a hiss. Anxious- half nauseous- energy compelled Papyrus to rattle his leg bones. He felt a need to _do_ something. Normally he'd just prowl around in the lab until he burned himself out or Gaster-

Click.

Papyrus stalled. What was he doing? Sans was cradled up to his chest. He must've been cuddling?

He settled down on the wood of the boat and took stock of his surroundings. He didn't have a lot of experience out of the lab- it usually involved the core whenever he _was_ out- so this was new! Exciting!

Even if it was only rocks and a weird red orange glow, Papyrus liked that he got the chance to look at it. He stared at his surroundings with intensity, locking out unpleasant thoughts that hovered in the back of his mind and threatened to consume him. He was excited. He was happy for the new things. He was excited he was happy he wasn't thinking of guilt or anxiety or-

He was happy he was happy he was observing his surroundings. And his surroundings _did_ indeed help him think more pleasant thoughts.

Sans started to squirm after Papyrus felt like he had had enough time to memorize every stone and light in the area and he cast a skeletal grin down on his tiny brother. He loved his brother, he was happy that Sans got to be outside too. Sans deserved every happiness he could get. Whimsically, daringly, feeling as though wind was slithering playfully between his ribs, Papyrus stood and tossed Sans lightly into the air. Sans first squealed, then giggled childishly, and Papyrus felt his soul fluttering like an adrenaline pulse. Papyrus tossed him again, grinning and feeling Sans’ elation radiating like the warmest body heat. Papyrus continued to toss Sans, a little higher each time, and then on one toss Sans’ eye flickered blue and he didn't come back down.

“Sans!” Papyrus hissed, eye sockets wide. “Sans!” Papyrus couldn't tell if he felt excited or worried, watching the carefree, tiny skeleton hovering above him. His bones jittered against each other, energy swelling but not morphing. Nothing was causing any friction, and the hollow exhaustion that demanded feeding instead of sleeping was still far off.

“Sans!” Papyrus shouted again when the blue light of his socket flickered, and then gutted out. Sans came back to Papyrus’ ribcage with a quiet “oof!” and Papyrus crouched down onto his haunches. He clutched his grinning brother to his ribcage and laughed with half-hysteric nerves. That had been fun! Terrifying. But fun! Sans was starting to show his magic.

Papyrus remembered why Sans didn't have a glow in one eye.

Papyrus didn't want to think about that anymore.

Sans was still giggling and Papyrus clicked their foreheads together, rattling his bones in affection. He didn't plan on letting Sans go anytime soon.

The River Person came hastening down the path a short while later, and Papyrus found a strange feeling in his soul at their reappearance. It was something nearly similar to how he felt for Sans, but where he had a heavy desire with Sans to protect, this felt more… ‘Polarized,’ his brain offered, a term he had heard Gaster-

 **Click**.

Papyrus felt like he’d been shoved out of his skull, quite forcefully, and had to spend a few moments dragging his brain back in. Whatever goopy fog that clung to his brain and left eraser shreddings all over his thoughts made it hard for Papyrus to focus on anything outside his own calcium cranium. A few hard blinks and a couple head shakes later and he became aware that someone’s hands were on his cheekbones. He flinched, those hands were too big to be Sans’ and if hands that weren't Sans’ were touching him then it meant bad things-

“Little Papyrus?”

Papyrus could feel someone else's worry. Not strong, not strong enough to do anything, but present enough to run up against his soul like static. Worry was a balloon against fur, not enough to Enfriction but enough to make Papyrus growl, to make him whine and hiss and rattle his bones in discomfort.

Then worry turned to pity and the friction wasn't so bad.

“I did not mean to distress you, little Papyrus.” A calm voice. “There there now, tra la la.”

Oh! Oh, it was the River Person! The gooey fog and panicked disorientation in his skull cleared out enough for him to blink and focus on the figure touching him. It was the River Person, of course it was the River Person. Of course they were the one touching him, they were his new person! His old owner-

Papyrus felt guilt lance through him like a blade between his ribs and he ground his teeth against each other and looked away. He'd let his guard down, he couldn't keep his remorse and hideous, twining, squelching guilt from his conscious anymore.

“Tra la la,” the River Person sang softly, kneeling next to the children and pulling them into a hug that was so soft and foreign to Papyrus. He wasn't in much of a state of mind to appreciate it though, his sudden memory of _what he’d done_ making him nauseous and shivery and cold. Maybe he could just stop thinking about it, like how he'd been ignoring it all day up to that point, and if he didn't think about it it wouldn't bother him again!

He tried to focus on his brother, on the person holding the two of them and singing softly, murmuring that he was alright, it was fine, he was going to be perfectly okay, and failed to shove his own thoughts back outside of his skull. He keened, an annoying, too-loud noise and he was bad for making it, and leaned into River and cried because he was a terrible person and he didn't deserve to live and he was bad and awful and disobedient and what he had done was unforgivable and heinous and wrong and he was bad he was bad he was bad bad bad bad bad.

“Shh, little Papyrus, let it all wash away.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> If you like it, please comment!


End file.
